fic: One Last Time
Title: One Last Time
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: Angst
Word count: 746
Summary: For the summerpornathon Challenge 2: AU, and to fill my quill_it prompt tense. WWI trench warfare fic. The day before The Big Push.
They were going over the top.
The news came just after dinner. Merlin bit his lip, and silently swallowed the lumpy custard that seemed to turn to cement in his throat. They all took the news in their own way, not questioning each of their coping methods.
Lancelot wrote another letter to his ladylove, even though he'd written the last one just the night before. Leon methodically checked all his equipment, from his helmet to his worn shoes that didn't fit properly, and sat sharpening his bayonet. Merlin slipped away to his bunk, behind the scrap of cloth that had used to be a coat; they had torn it up, hanging it up as some sort of pretence at privacy. He sat, and waited.
Arthur didn't take too long to get there. He slid past the old coat and joined Merlin on the bed. They sat close together, closer than even the small bunk warranted. Merlin could feel the tremble vibrating through from Arthur's usually strong legs. "So," he huffed quietly, "We're going over the top, eh?"
"Mm," came the hum from Arthur. They could have been discussing something as mundane as buying a new bicycle from their tones.
Merlin stared at his fingers, which hadn't been clean in a long time. "Got anything you have to do before tomorrow then?" He didn't himself; he had letters addressed to his mum and to Gaius written out long ago. His Sergeant knew to send them out if anything happened.
As a twitch of Arthur's hand claimed Merlin's attention, he just watched as Arthur put his hand over Merlin's knee. "No. Left letters to father and Morgana already." Merlin didn't take his short answer as curtness; none of them wasted words anymore. He laced his fingers through Arthur's.
"One last time?" Arthur smiled, a slight curve of lips, and pressed forward, touching his chapped lips to Merlin's. His rough tongue snuck out, licking across Merlin's bottom lip before delving inside Merlin's mouth, warm, wet, inviting. Merlin opened his mouth for Arthur, arms wrapping around the other man's strong shoulders in a desperate embrace.
Arthur's hands gripped Merlin equally tightly. There would be bruises to show for it across the pale skin of Merlin's ribs, if there was the time for them to develop. He rucked up Merlin's shirt, tracing his calloused hands all over the smooth skin. Merlin groaned in a silent promise, squirming under his touch but not loudly.
It was hardly a secret. Nothing was here. But if they were quiet, the others didn't have to listen to it or see it; they could pretend it never happened. They wouldn't have to form judgements, or tell their commanding officer, or think about it at all.
They rolled backwards; the bunk was barely sturdy enough for one. Merlin spat and lowered his hands, past the frantic fumbling of Arthur's hands, and wormed his way past the trousers held up with a bit of string, past the thin underwear. He tumbled the trouser buttons out of their buttonholes and jerked. He heard Arthur's breathy grunt in his ear as he pressed his forehead to Arthur's neck so that he could see. The fuzz of blond curls trickled down from under his belly button to frame him; Merlin reached over and wrapped his skinny fingers around Arthur; he could feel Arthur rushing to catch up.
Arthur's broad frame near crushed Merlin to the bunk, but he didn't care. He rutted upwards into the warmth of Arthur's hand and felt Arthur squeeze him. He reciprocated, hearing the soft squelch of liquid and he wrapped his fingers around Arthur's length, tracing his fingertips up and down as he pumped.
Arthur pressed them together and dropped sloppy, wet kisses across Merlin's face and neck. He whimpered into the tickly fluff of hair at Arthur's neck, and thrust up, relishing the heat, the friction and the freedom. As he gasped for breath as Arthur took them closer, emotions played out across his face, and Arthur swallowed them, drowned himself in them. There were things that would never need to be said.
When they came, Arthur bit down on Merlin's lip so hard that he tasted blood, and he in return clung to Arthur's shirt like a child.
For the first time, Arthur didn't pad out to his own bunk. There was no point. He draped an arm across Merlin's stomach."We should get some sleep. We'll be up early to go over the top."
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: Angst
Word count: 746
Summary: For the summerpornathon Challenge 2: AU, and to fill my quill_it prompt tense. WWI trench warfare fic. The day before The Big Push.
They were going over the top.
The news came just after dinner. Merlin bit his lip, and silently swallowed the lumpy custard that seemed to turn to cement in his throat. They all took the news in their own way, not questioning each of their coping methods.
Lancelot wrote another letter to his ladylove, even though he'd written the last one just the night before. Leon methodically checked all his equipment, from his helmet to his worn shoes that didn't fit properly, and sat sharpening his bayonet. Merlin slipped away to his bunk, behind the scrap of cloth that had used to be a coat; they had torn it up, hanging it up as some sort of pretence at privacy. He sat, and waited.
Arthur didn't take too long to get there. He slid past the old coat and joined Merlin on the bed. They sat close together, closer than even the small bunk warranted. Merlin could feel the tremble vibrating through from Arthur's usually strong legs. "So," he huffed quietly, "We're going over the top, eh?"
"Mm," came the hum from Arthur. They could have been discussing something as mundane as buying a new bicycle from their tones.
Merlin stared at his fingers, which hadn't been clean in a long time. "Got anything you have to do before tomorrow then?" He didn't himself; he had letters addressed to his mum and to Gaius written out long ago. His Sergeant knew to send them out if anything happened.
As a twitch of Arthur's hand claimed Merlin's attention, he just watched as Arthur put his hand over Merlin's knee. "No. Left letters to father and Morgana already." Merlin didn't take his short answer as curtness; none of them wasted words anymore. He laced his fingers through Arthur's.
"One last time?" Arthur smiled, a slight curve of lips, and pressed forward, touching his chapped lips to Merlin's. His rough tongue snuck out, licking across Merlin's bottom lip before delving inside Merlin's mouth, warm, wet, inviting. Merlin opened his mouth for Arthur, arms wrapping around the other man's strong shoulders in a desperate embrace.
Arthur's hands gripped Merlin equally tightly. There would be bruises to show for it across the pale skin of Merlin's ribs, if there was the time for them to develop. He rucked up Merlin's shirt, tracing his calloused hands all over the smooth skin. Merlin groaned in a silent promise, squirming under his touch but not loudly.
It was hardly a secret. Nothing was here. But if they were quiet, the others didn't have to listen to it or see it; they could pretend it never happened. They wouldn't have to form judgements, or tell their commanding officer, or think about it at all.
They rolled backwards; the bunk was barely sturdy enough for one. Merlin spat and lowered his hands, past the frantic fumbling of Arthur's hands, and wormed his way past the trousers held up with a bit of string, past the thin underwear. He tumbled the trouser buttons out of their buttonholes and jerked. He heard Arthur's breathy grunt in his ear as he pressed his forehead to Arthur's neck so that he could see. The fuzz of blond curls trickled down from under his belly button to frame him; Merlin reached over and wrapped his skinny fingers around Arthur; he could feel Arthur rushing to catch up.
Arthur's broad frame near crushed Merlin to the bunk, but he didn't care. He rutted upwards into the warmth of Arthur's hand and felt Arthur squeeze him. He reciprocated, hearing the soft squelch of liquid and he wrapped his fingers around Arthur's length, tracing his fingertips up and down as he pumped.
Arthur pressed them together and dropped sloppy, wet kisses across Merlin's face and neck. He whimpered into the tickly fluff of hair at Arthur's neck, and thrust up, relishing the heat, the friction and the freedom. As he gasped for breath as Arthur took them closer, emotions played out across his face, and Arthur swallowed them, drowned himself in them. There were things that would never need to be said.
When they came, Arthur bit down on Merlin's lip so hard that he tasted blood, and he in return clung to Arthur's shirt like a child.
For the first time, Arthur didn't pad out to his own bunk. There was no point. He draped an arm across Merlin's stomach."We should get some sleep. We'll be up early to go over the top."